


One More Drink Leads to Another

by mohawke



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, Drunk Kisses, F/M, Pre-Established Relationship, Surprise Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6258868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mohawke/pseuds/mohawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting tipsy leads to confessions and kisses</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Drink Leads to Another

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I have a soft spot for country music. Bite me.

The sun is just beginning to dip low on the horizon when he hears the sound of hoofbeats against stone that herald the party’s return. He can’t resist the urge to glance out the window overlooking the bridge.

She brings her mount to a slow trot as she nears the main gates, glancing up towards the tower that houses his office and Cullen nearly drops his stack of reports when her eyes flicker towards the window. He can just barely see the faint curve of a smile on her lips as she passes, disappearing from his vantage point.

* * *

News had reached him long before she arrived back. They had killed the high dragon in the Hinterlands. For months now it had been circling the area and the Inquisitor had finally managed to fell the beast. For the moment, the Hinterlands remain in relative peace.

He’s reading over a letter from his sister when the door to his office swings open and the Inquisitor enters. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and she looks at him eagerly as she talks. He’s only dimly aware that she’s talking, too focused on the way her lips move as she speaks to pay any mind to what she is saying. He quickly catches himself,running his hand through his hair as he apologizes. She gives him a teasing grin before repeating her words.

“You clearly need to take a break. Come celebrate with everyone else in the tavern.”

He almost turns her down but there’s something entirely too infectious about the smile on her face and he finds himself agreeing to join her.

There was little doubt in his mind that the Herald’s rest would be packed tonight, given the fact that news travelled like wildfire around the keep. There’s hardly any room to navigate the crowded area and he’s truly regretting the fact that he’s still in his armor, the combination of fur, leather and metal quickly becoming stifling. Slim fingers link with his as Tethiel nimbly winds her way around the room, leading the way towards the bar. He doesn’t miss the knowing look Dorian gives him just before the Inquisitor lets go of his hand. He’ll certainly be hearing about _that_ tomorrow.

“ _Curly_? Is that really you? Andraste’s ass! I never thought I’d see the day someone managed to drag _you_ away from your work.” Varric says and Cullen is positive he’s never been more relieved to see the dwarf. At least now Dorian doesn’t have the chance to say anything.

“Varric.” He replies with a nod as he takes a seat at the bar. Someone hands him a tankard of ale and he takes a swallow, eyes drifting towards their leader as she perches herself on the bar. He sees Cabot open his mouth to protest but the dwarf seems to think better of it, shaking his head and muttering as he walks away.

It’s been far too long since he’s done anything other than work and Cullen quickly finds himself swept up in the infectious energy of Tethiel’s story of the dragon fight.

* * *

“You guys should have seen the look on Dorian’s face when she spat that first fireball at us. I swear, I’ve never seen him run faster. ” Tethiel says, laughing loudly as the Tevinter mage glares at her.

“Well _excuse me_ for not wishing to be burnt to a crisp in this miserable country.” He retorts.

Tethiel takes a swig of her drink, grimacing at the taste.

“ _Creators_ Bull! What _is_ this? It’s _awful_!”

The Qunari chuckles, taking a swig of his own tankard.

“Maraas-Lok. Don’t worry, the nerves in your throat will be dead by the second cup.” He says nonchalantly.

“Something to look forward to then…” she says, shaking her head as she takes another tentative swallow. “Ugh. Why am I drinking this?”

“Because we killed a high dragon, like the warriors of old! Boss, I just want you to know that this is easily the best gig I’ve ever had. You know, other than the demons and corpses and _other_ fade crap.”

“It’s a good thing Solas isn’t here.” She says with a laugh before downing the rest of her drink. “Alright, I’m ready for round two!”

* * *

He’s on his fourth ale by the time she’s finished her second mug of _whatever_ it is Bull is pouring her and they’ve all long since abandoned stories of dragons for a game of Questions and Commands. Blue eyes catch his as she slams down the empty tankard.

“Alright Commander Cullen, what will it be?” Several sets of eyes watch him as he mulls over his choice for a few brief seconds but hers are the only ones he focuses on.

“Question.” He states, feeling flushed as she gives him a small smirk, the tip of her tongue darting out over her lips for a brief second.

“Who is the last person you thought about kissing?”

_Maker’s breath. How drunk is he that he’s actually considering answering this?_

Between the buzz from the alcohol and the way she’s leaning towards him his brain seems to lose all sense of reason.

“You.” He whispers and then she’s in his lap and her lips are on his, slender fingers twining in his hair. He can taste the alcohol as his tongue tangles with hers, and he’s dimly aware of somebody whistling in approval. When they break apart she looks at him with a dazed expression, cheeks flushed from both drink and desire.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” she begins, trailing off when he shakes his head.

“ _Maker’s breath_ , do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“I think everyone _except_ her was aware…” Dorian says with a chuckle, raising his arms in mock surrender as she turns to glare at him. “If you wanted a private moment you should have gone elsewhere.”


End file.
